Visiting The Grave Of Anne Sexton
Photography by apryl skies © 2011
The grass was like two hands around the family stone,
two hands that rubbed together,
knitted like skins that knew where they belong,
and I do not remember the birds, but I am sure
there must have been at least four,
and they must have prayed as I did,
for your time, for your marrow,
for the driver's seat of a stale car,
but I know as well as you do that rapture is a
once-in-a-lifetime-thing,
a bleeding of worms,
a release of the daisies,
the silent sorrow of a mother in the driveway,
and you, a signature of the palm,
an energy from concrete,
you did exhale,
I heard it twice.
april michelle bratten 2010
two hands that rubbed together,
knitted like skins that knew where they belong,
and I do not remember the birds, but I am sure
there must have been at least four,
and they must have prayed as I did,
for your time, for your marrow,
for the driver's seat of a stale car,
but I know as well as you do that rapture is a
once-in-a-lifetime-thing,
a bleeding of worms,
a release of the daisies,
the silent sorrow of a mother in the driveway,
and you, a signature of the palm,
an energy from concrete,
you did exhale,
I heard it twice.
april michelle bratten 2010
